The world felt smaller after the Echo King left.
Not physically—but conceptually.
As if certain possibilities had been quietly removed from existence.
Aiden stood at the edge of the shattered plateau, staring at the place where reality had folded open and let a King walk through. The air there still felt tighter, more obedient—like it remembered being commanded.
Lyra rubbed her arms.
"I hate it," she said. "The silence after him. It's like the world's waiting to be told what to do."
Aidem nodded grimly.
"That's the danger," he said. "Kings do not conquer through destruction. They conquer through certainty."
Aiden clenched his fists.
"Then we learn how to fight certainty."
Aidem turned to him slowly.
"That is not something you fight," he said.
"It is something you outgrow."
---
THE LIMITS OF A WARDEN
They moved to a hollow between broken stone pillars—remnants of some ancient structure whose purpose had long since been erased. Aidem traced sigils into the air, stabilizing the space.
"Sit," he told Aiden.
Aiden obeyed.
Lyra lingered nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Aidem studied Aiden carefully.
"You felt it, didn't you?" Aidem said. "When the King imposed authority."
Aiden nodded.
"It was like… choices collapsing. Like my thoughts were being edited."
"That is a King's domain," Aidem said. "They reduce futures until only one remains."
Aiden swallowed.
"And I can't stop that yet."
"No," Aidem agreed. "Because you are still reacting."
Aiden frowned.
"Reacting to what?"
"To the Cycle," Aidem said. "To the Maw. To Kings."
He stepped closer.
"A Warden who reacts is still bound by inevitability."
Lyra spoke up.
"Then what's the alternative?"
Aidem looked at Aiden.
"Initiation."
---
A DIFFERENT KIND OF TRAINING
Aidem extended his hand.
The space around them warped—not violently, but politely, rearranging itself into a circular field of smooth stone and floating light markers.
"This is not combat training," Aidem said.
"This is decision training."
Aiden blinked.
"…What?"
Aidem snapped his fingers.
The world split.
Three scenarios unfolded around Aiden simultaneously:
1. A collapsing city—millions trapped.
2. A single child standing before a sealed world-gate.
3. The Continuance Anchor itself—flickering, unstable.
Lyra inhaled sharply.
"What the hell—"
"Choose," Aidem said.
Aiden's heart slammed.
"What?"
"Act," Aidem repeated. "Now."
---
THE WRONG ANSWER
Aiden surged to his feet, instinct screaming.
He reached for the Chorus—power flooding his veins—
—and moved toward the collapsing city.
The moment he did—
Everything froze.
Aidem's voice cut through.
"Stop."
The visions shattered.
Aiden staggered.
"What—why—? People were dying—"
Aidem's gaze was stern.
"And by choosing them first, you abandoned the anchor."
Aiden froze.
Aidem continued.
"The King would exploit that. He would force you into endless rescues until the anchor breaks—and all worlds fall."
Lyra whispered, "That's cruel."
Aidem nodded.
"Yes."
---
THE SECOND FAILURE
The visions reformed.
Again.
"Choose," Aidem said.
This time Aiden hesitated—then turned toward the Anchor.
Light surged as he stabilized it.
The city collapsed.
Screams echoed.
Aiden cried out.
"NO—"
The vision ended.
Aiden dropped to his knees, shaking.
"I saved the structure," he whispered. "But I let them die."
Aidem's voice was quiet.
"And that is how Kings are made."
Aiden looked up, horrified.
"I don't want that."
"I know," Aidem said.
---
THE THIRD PATH
The visions appeared a third time.
Aiden's breath was ragged.
His hands shook.
He closed his eyes.
Continuance is choice.
He didn't reach for power.
He reached for understanding.
Aiden looked at the child.
Then the city.
Then the anchor.
He stepped toward the child.
Lyra gasped. "Aiden—!"
Aiden knelt before the child, placing a hand on the sealed gate.
Instead of forcing it open—
He listened.
The gate resonated.
The city's collapse slowed—not stopped, but delayed.
The anchor steadied—not reinforced, but unstrained.
Aidem's eyes widened.
"What did you do?" Lyra whispered.
Aiden opened his eyes.
"I didn't choose what to save," he said softly.
"I chose who decides."
The visions dissolved.
Silence followed.
Then—
Aidem laughed.
Once.
Short. Sharp. Uncontrolled.
"…You're infuriating," he said.
"And that may save everything."
---
THE WARDEN'S EDGE
Aidem knelt in front of Aiden.
"You did not impose an outcome," he said.
"You created time."
Aiden frowned.
"That's all I did."
Aidem shook his head.
"That is the only thing Kings cannot do."
Lyra smiled slowly.
"Because certainty hates delays."
Aiden stood, steadier now.
"So that's how we fight him."
Aidem nodded.
"You don't oppose inevitability," he said.
"You outpace it."
---
THE COST REVEALED
Aidem's expression darkened.
"There is a price," he warned.
"Every delay you create increases strain on the anchor—and on you."
Aiden met his gaze.
"I know."
Aidem studied him.
"Do you?"
Aiden pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the constant pull.
"I feel it every second," he said.
"But if the only way forward is becoming a monster—"
He looked up.
"—then we find another way."
Lyra stepped beside him.
"We always do."
Aidem closed his eyes briefly.
"…Then prepare yourselves," he said.
"For the next time the King comes, he will not test you."
Aiden stared at the sky.
"Good," he said quietly.
"I'm done being measured."